CHAPTER XV.
IN WHICH KÉRABAN, AHMET, VAN MITTEN, AND THEIR SERVANTS PLAY THE PART OF SALAMANDERS.
Taman is but a melancholy-looking town, with its comfortless houses, its thatched roofs discoloured by the weather, and its wooden church, the bell-tower of which is continually concealed by the flocks of falcons which wheel around it.
The chaise merely passed through Taman. So Van Mitten was not able to visit the military positions, nor the fortress of Phanagoria, nor the ruins of Tmoutarakan.
If Kertsch is Greek in population and costume, Taman itself is Cossack, a contrast which the Dutchman could not help remarking upon.
The chaise, invariably proceeding by the shortest routes, followed for an hour the southern shore of the bay of Taman. The travellers saw enough to perceive that the country was full of game, and afforded opportunities for shooting almost unequalled in any other part of the globe.
In fact, pelicans, cormorants, grebes, without counting the flocks of bustards, arose from the marshes in incredible numbers.
"I have never seen such quantities of water-fowl," observed Van Mitten. "One might fire into the marsh at random: not a grain of shot would fail to hit."
This remark evoked no discussion. Kéraban was no sportsman, and Ahmet was occupied with far different thoughts. There was not even the commencement of a dispute, except when a flock of wild ducks rose, alarmed at the approach of the carriage, just as it was quitting the coast-road to turn to the south-east.
"There is a flock!" exclaimed Van Mitten; "it is really a regiment!"
"A regiment! you mean an army," replied Kéraban, shrugging his shoulders.
